These were the words I cried out to the desolate gas station parking lot, as I stood in a suit and heels, holding a massive jug of windshield wiper fluid with snow piling on top of my head. I had just run out of wiper fluid during a snow storm on my way home from work, and managed to grandma-crawl my Mazda to a gas station off the highway. I ran in, looking crazed, with make-up smeared all over my face from my hysterical state of attempting to drive by sticking my head out the window to see. My hands had gone numb and there were a few incidents where the wiper-fluid jug and I nearly wiped out on the blacktop. I then realized I left the jug’s lid inside of the hood, and proceeded to get grease all…